


the light behind your eyes

by Aseikh



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: :), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Angst, Book 9: Halt's Peril (Ranger's Apprentice), Canon Rewrite, Gen, Near Death Experiences, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poisoning, Will this be queer? Maybe, we'll see how this goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29481681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aseikh/pseuds/Aseikh
Summary: When Will and Halt head into the drowned forest to flush out the Genovesans, Will senses that something isn’t quite … right. Suddenly feeling uneasy for his mentor, Will convinces Halt to switch places with him.AU where Will gets shot and poisoned in Halt’s place in “Halt’s Peril!”
Relationships: Halt O'Carrick & Will Treaty, Horace Altman & Halt O'Carrick, Horace Altman & Will Treaty
Comments: 33
Kudos: 49





	1. the dead forest

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to write this and finished this first chapter in the same day, so I'm not entirely sure in what direction I'll be taking this! Will it be Will/Horace? How angsty will it be? We'll just have to wait and find out! This first chapter is heavily based on Chapter 19 of Halt's Peril, with some changes to make it more my style. As we get more into the AU, obviously, it will be less based on Flanagan's writing, and more mine. Hope y'all enjoy!

As the three men reached the ridge, they looked down into a wide valley below them.

Halt let out a low whistle. “Now that’s where we’re going to have to be careful,” Halt said, dark eyes studying the vista.

The flat plain ahead of them stretched for kilometers. In the distance, they could see the glint of a river as it twisted through the countryside, always following the lowest point of the land and dipping behind ridges. Immediately before them, at the base of the ridge they rested, the grass sloped downward, and then … changed.

It was dead. Gray.

Gaunt, bare trees rose from the ground, massed together in what only could be called a thick forest, despite the lack of foliage. Bare, wooden limbs reached for the sky, jagged and uneven, devoid of any of the usual colors of the forest. They were twisted at weird angles and shapes, as if in agony. It was as if souls were reaching up into the sky, desperate for escape, but the dead branches and shadows kept them down, just out of reach of the sun.

There were thousands of the dead trees, tightly packed together until they cut off at the river bank in the distance—but the trees at the bank didn’t look any better, looking black and dark, with many crumbled over into the river.

To Will’s eye, used to the soft greens and browns in the forest around Castle Redmont or Seacliff, the sight was simply desolate and depressing. The wind slipped through the dead branches and trunks, whispering a forlorn sound that was only just audible to their ears. Without their usual cloaks of leaves, the branches didn’t sway gracefully. They remained stark and stiff, sharp and ugly lines unwavering as they resisted the gentle caress of the breeze.

Will guessed that with strong winds, the dead branches would crack and split by the dozen, falling to the ground like warped, gray spears. For now, though, they whispered at the edge of Will’s hearing, pulling him closer as if possessed.

“What … is that?” he asked, suddenly feeling like he should be whispering. It seemed more suitable, in the proximity of so many dead trees.

“It’s a drowned forest,” Halt murmured back, keeping his eyes on the forest.

Horace leaned forward from his spot slightly back and in-between them, crossing both hands on the pommel of his saddle as he surveyed the scene that stretched before them.

“How does a forest drown?” he asked, genuinely curious. Like Will, he kept his voice low, as if he didn’t want to disturb the tragic scene. The gray shapes stretched out below them seemed to demand some measure of respect, the knight thought. Halt pointed to the distant glitter of the river, barely visible beyond the dead forest.

“I’d say the river must’ve flooded,” he said, “Some years ago, probably in a particularly wet season. Floodwaters spread over the low ground, and basically, the trees drowned. They can’t live with their root systems underwater, so they gradually died off.”

Now Horace frowned. “But I’ve seen floods before,” he thought out loud, “A river floods. The waters rise, then recede back and everything pretty much goes back to normal.”

Halt was studying the land now, and he nodded acknowledgment of Horace’s statement.

“Normally, it would happen that way,” the older Ranger said, “and over a short period of time, the trees will survive. But if something blocks the waters from receding back to the river, like a ridge,” as he spoke, Halt pointed in the distance, where they could just barely see the rise of another ridge, right at the edge of the river, “the water is stuck. Additionally, if it kept raining, or the river flooded multiple times, then …” Halt trailed off, then simply gestured at the dead forest again, knowing that the presence finished his explanation well-enough.

As they had spoke, Halt had been scanning for a trail to follow down the slope they were at. The moment he saw it, he urged Abelard towards it, his two younger companions following after him without comment. As they reached the flat ground below their vantage point, the utter size of the forest was emphasized. The dead trees towered over their group, the gray trunks blending in together with their twisted, odd shapes weaving the whole place into one mass. They merged together like a wall, solid and impregnable.

“Now this is what I’d call a good ambush site,” Halt shook his head, considering the area. Then, a few moments later, he swung down from his saddle and walked forward several paces, studying the ground. He beckoned the others to join him.

“Will,” he said, looking towards his former apprentice as he walked up, “you saw the tracks Tennyson and his party left in the grasslands once we got out of the forest?” He said it as a question, but it was more or less a statement.

Nodding, Will glanced around the area, already knowing what Halt wanted him to do. “See if you can find any difference,” his mentor said anyways, even as Will stepped around him and closer to the edge of the forest.

There was a thread of wool hanging from a low bush in the grass. Farther along, something gleamed on the ground. Will wandered over to it, absently picking it up even as his eyes caught on something else. A little farther along, he saw a distinct, perfectly formed heel print in a soft patch of ground. He glanced down to whatever he had picked up, seeing it to be a horn button.

“What d’you think?” Halt asked, standing back next to Horace and the horses some paces behind Will.

Will didn’t respond right away, still looking down at the button he flipped between his fingers. Despite the fact that it was laying in the dirt, like the string had come loose and fallen, there was no stray string hanging from the button. Almost as if it had been pulled out on purpose. He glanced back to the string that had been on the bush, recognizing it to be the missing string that should still have been looped in the button. There was no way the button had gotten caught and pulled off, because the button would have fallen before the string. There was definitely something wrong, Will thought, and Halt’s request for him to look over the area already confirmed that he felt the same way. Mentally, Will pictured the tracks they had seen at the top of the rise behind them: vague impressions in the dirt, occasional bruised blades of grass, all of these signs almost invisible to the standard follower. Now, though, there were threads, and buttons, and deep footprints—just the sort of thing that Tennyson’s party had seemed to be avoiding only a few hundred meters away.

And all of the clues pointed in one clear direction—the dead forest.

Will looked up from his spot, seeing that he was a good few meters into the forest. He turned and looked back to his mentor. “It’s too … obvious,” he said, struggling to find the right words for it. First they were leaving a trail that could only be followed by trained trackers, only to switch and leave markings that even Horace could follow on his own.

“Exactly,” Halt agreed, staring towards his apprentice’s form. He was little more then a green-brown smear in the gray forest, the cloak still attempting to do it’s work and conceal him among the shadows. “It’s all very … convenient, isn’t it?”

“They wanted us to find them,” Will finished, shrugging and tossing the horn button back to the ground. It was a statement, not a question, and Halt nodded his agreement.

Then, from behind both Rangers, still hesitating before the mass of trees, Horace said “They want us to follow.”

Halt grinned wryly. “If we leave you with that cloak much longer, I might have to give you a bronze leaf to go with it,” he joked. Then, he looked back to Will, who still stood among the trees, staring up into the creaking, gray limbs. Will could still hear the whispering as the breeze went through the forest, and something about it caught his ears. He turned back to look deeper in the forest, studying the shadows. He frowned.

“They’re waiting for us in there,” he murmured.

He looked back, seeing that Halt was staring into the forest like he was, the gray wasteland blending into the landscape around them until it was all that there was. Will walked back to where his mentor and friend waited, before turning back to look at it once again. Halt frowned slightly as he continued to look into it, trying to discern some sort of movement. He blinked. The trees merged together, blurring in his vision.

“It’s what I’d do,” Halt said quietly. Then, with just a hint of contempt, he added, “Although, I would hope I’d be a bit more subtle about it. With how much they left for us to find, I’m almost insulted.”

“I am insulted,” Will muttered, placing a hand on Tug’s neck and letting the rise and fall of his horse’s breath calm the nerves he felt rising. Something about that forest felt off. Wrong. He didn’t want to go into it, despite knowing that he would have to.

“It’s not like they could know,” Horace pointed out, coming over to Will and nudging him lightly. “It’s not like they’ve had to deal with Rangers before. They don’t know how you all are trained.”

Halt nodded at that. “The Genovesans have no idea we know the first thing about tracking. They might suspect it, but it doesn’t seem like they’re taking any chances with this,” he indicated the footprint, the thread, and the discarded horn button.

The three of them fell silent, studying the tracks the Genovesans left behind, the dead forest, or the rich, green area they’d just left behind.

“So what do we do now?” Horace asked, not liking the silence nor the shadow of a forest looming over them.

Halt waited, thinking through how to respond. “What we do now,” he said, still thinking, “is have you take the horses back a few hundred meters or so and wait. Will and I will flush these Genovesans out.”

Horace immediately stepped forward, intending on arguing. “Hold up—” the knight started, but Halt was waving away his remonstrations before he could even start.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Horace,” he said, “I trust you as much as I trust Will. But you’re simply not trained for this fight.”

Wanting to argue, despite knowing that the Ranger was right, Horace opened his mouth again. Before he could, though, Will reached out and grabbed his arm, catching his attention. He looked over to Will, seeing an odd look in his friend’s eyes.

“Horace,” Will said, “from what I’ve seen, the Genovesans fight from a distance with their crossbows before they use their knives, like us,” as he spoke, he set a hand absently on his saxe knife. “You wouldn’t even get a chance to come near them before …” he stopped talking, looking to Halt to continue the thought, not wanting to say what he was going to say.

“That’s why I want you to wait back,” Halt continued, “This won’t be a close-quarters fight. They’d put enough crossbow bolts in you to make you look like a porcupine before you got within twenty meters of them.”

Horace didn’t want to let it go, though. He thought of Will and Halt walking into that forest and one or both of them not coming back out.

“You wouldn’t be able to help,” Halt tried again, his voice surprisingly gentle. “You’d just provide them with another target.” Then, Halt tipped his head to the side. “Plus, if Will and I have to watch out for you, that could just put us at more risk.”

The struggle was all too evident on Horace’s face. It went against the grain for him to step back and let his friends do the dangerous task without him. Yet, deep in his heart, he knew that Halt and Will were right. He could be of no help in the forest, and, without a doubt, he would be little more than a hindrance.

“Okay,” Horace finally murmured reluctantly. “It makes sense … but I don’t like it.”

Beside him, Will scoffed, grinning at him. The odd look that had been on his face before was gone now, replaced with a mask of humor. The Ranger squeezed his arm again before letting go. “I don’t like it either,” he said, shrugging. “I’d much rather stay back here with you and the horses. But Halt hasn’t really give me much of a choice.”

Horace smiled at Will, appreciating the dash of humor. Horace could see the light of determination in his friend’s eyes. It was time for them to take the fight to the Genovesans, and Horace knew that, in spite of his words, Will was ready to do just that.

Feeling worse than useless, Horace reached out for Tug’s bridle. “Come on, boy.”

For a moment, the little horse resisted, turning to look at his master with an inquiring eye. Will placed his hand back on Tug’s neck, hoping the touch would sooth the horse. “Go along, Tug,” accompanying the order with a hand signal. Reluctantly, Tug turned and followed where Horace was pulling him, with Abelard turning to look at Halt as he saw the two other horses leaving.

Halt nodded, and said, “Abelard, follow.”

Horace walked back away from the forest with the three horses, wanting to say something more before his friends left him behind. “If you need me, just call and I’ll …” his voice trailed off as he turned back.

All that he saw was the mass of gray, dead trees. They had already disappeared into the drowned forest, not waiting for Horace to finish whatever he’d started saying. He swallowed hard, feeling a thrill of nervousness go up his spine. Or, for all he knew, they were still standing there, waiting for him to finish, and he just didn’t know.

He hadn’t said it before they left, and now he regretted holding his tongue, but … Horace sighed, turning away from the forest.

He had a bad feeling about this. He knew there was no other option than to spring the trap the Genovesans set, but something just … wasn’t right. Horace sighed, looking up into the bright blue sky, and found that he could only hope that everything turned out well.


	2. promises made and promises kept

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to add two things here:  
> 1) thank you all for the kind comments!! so many of y'all left such lovely comments on the first chapter that had me crying so i may or may not have pushed this chapter out sooner rather than work on my studies.  
> 2) as of right now, i WILL be writing these chapters along with how Flanagan originally split HIS chapters. so, the first chapter was a rewrite of chapter 19, this one a rewrite of chapter 20, etc. Things will obviously split off when i get more into the au but for now that's how it is.

Will and Halt, separated by about five meters so they wouldn’t offer a grouped target for the Genovesans, slipped silently through the dead forest. They worked in unison, each dividing their side of the forest and studying the lay of the land before ghosting to the next piece of cover. Without having to talk about it, they both looked for that one flash of color, that one sign of movement, that would tell them that they had caught up with the assassins.

As they worked through the forest, one or the other would check behind them at random intervals, making sure that no one, be it Horace or someone else, was following after them.

They had gotten much deeper into the forest compared to Will’s first venture, the light from the sun being mostly blocked out and the gray limbs creating odd, twisting shadows that confused even the Rangers’ trained eyes. After a while of working through the forest, they both spotted a larger-than-normal piece of cover. Multiple tree trunks had grown together, twisting around one another. It would provide enough protection for both Rangers to crouch and converse quietly as they planned their next move.

As Halt made his way over to it, silently signaling for Will to do the same, he noticed two other features around them that caught his eyes. He waited for Will to meet him at the tree, though, watching as the younger Ranger slid between the trees, using every piece of cover to it’s full advantage. Not that he would say it, but Halt felt his heart warm with pride as his former apprentice blended into the landscape with what seemed like little effort, blurring and never being quite visible even to Halt’s trained and practiced eyes.

Will slipped up next to his mentor, flashing a quick grin as he settled into a low crouch at the base of the tree. Now that he was deeper within the forest, Will realized that the trees truly had a sound of their own. The whispers still tugged at the edge of his hearing, but along with them, he could hear only groaning and creaking from the dead limbs brushing against each other, the dry joints being forced to move where they normally would be unable to. It was alien to him, used to the densely packed forests with wildlife and the gentle rustle of leaves blowing in the wind. Here, though, there was no such thing. All animals had left, leaving behind the dry, rotted ground and empty forest.

As he sat waiting for Halt to say something, Will couldn’t help but sit back and listen to the sounds of the forest, only able to equate it to the sounds of an agonizing death.

“Ugly, isn’t it?” Halt muttered, voice barely audible.

“S’getting on my nerves,” Will mumbled back, crossing his arms atop his knees. He folded himself into his cloak, wanting to shut out the whispers. He didn’t let it show on his face, though, not wanting to worry Halt in the little or make it seem like he wasn’t able to handle this type of stress. Instead of letting his mentor study him, Will decided to push the topic at hand instead. “What now?”

Without hesitating, Halt nodded to the narrow path that wound its way through the forest in front of them. It twisted around the trees, going in every direction, but always returning to the southeastern direction.

“They’re still leaving a clear trail for us to follow,” Halt remarked.

Will follow where Halt’s eyes were looking, his eyes immediately landing on a small fragment of ripped cloth snagged on a broken branch.

“They’re still not being any more subtle about it,” Will tossed back. Both kept their voices low, only just above a whisper. They had no idea where the Genovesans might be.

“No,” Halt agreed. “I’ve seen plenty of footprints along the way, too. You’d swear a giant made them, from the depth.”

Absently, Will dragged two fingers across the ground between them, lifting them up to show only dusty dirt on his fingers. The grass was short, barely there, and the ground was hard. “They’re doing it intentionally, still,” Will finished his mentor’s thought, knowing where this was going. “Letting us know exactly where they’ve gone.” He paused for a moment, still thinking. Halt remained silent, knowing Will would continue. “And which way they want us to follow.”

A faint smile creased Halt’s face. “Exactly.”

“But we’re not going to do that,” Will said. It seemed logical to him—if your enemy wanted you to do something, it only made sense to do something else entirely.

“We’re not,” Halt confirmed, nodding. “I am.”

A spike of fear stabbed through Will’s chest. Halt was planning on springing the trap? Instinctively, Will wanted to protest, but something stalled him. He thought about what could happen to Halt if something were to go wrong, if Will wasn’t fast enough in whatever Halt wanted him to do. In a flash, all the ways Will could fail Halt came to the forefront of his mind, none of them ever bringing forward the notion that it could be Halt that messed up. No, Will’s mind told him, if he messed up and Halt got hurt … how could he live with himself?

Halt was already talking through his plan, apparently not noticing Will’s odd silence. “… to be doing what they want, they may grow overconfident. And that could be good for us,” Halt was saying, scanning the forest as he spoke.

“True,” Will said quietly, his mind still racing. He said it without really paying attention to what Halt was saying, though, distracted by the thought of what they could be walking into.

Now Halt finally turned and looked at his apprentice, sensing that something was wrong. “Did you want to say something?” Halt prompted, reaching out to set a hand on Will’s forearm. Even without really studying his apprentice, he could see that something was bothering the younger man, and he had a feeling he knew what it was.

“I …” Will started, face twisted as he tried to think of how to form his thoughts.

“If this is about you not wanting me to be the bait,” Halt said, seeing that Will was struggling with his words. “One of us has to.” Glancing up, Halt scanned the forest again, wanting to sooth his son’s fears but also not wanting to get distracted. “We have to take a risk, to make sure they didn’t just set up this trail and leave us to blunder around in the forest for hours while they make their getaway.”

Will’s frown deepened. He hadn’t considered that possibility.

“Is that what you think they’ve done?” he ventured to ask, thinking that maybe, hopefully, they weren’t actually walking into any danger.

Halt’s response immediately dashed that hope. The older Ranger shook his head, slowly and deliberately. “No. I think they’re here. But we can’t ignore the possibility that that’s what they’ve done.”

Behind them, a branch moved with a louder-than-normal, drawn-out groan of tortured wood. Will spun, bow already out and arrow nocked. He felt a tight knot in the pit of his stomach as he wondered where the assassins were, when they might show their hand. Halt leaned in a bit closer, squeezing his hand that still rested on Will’s forearm.

“Let’s wait an hour or so,” he murmured, “We’ve got a good position here and we’re covered pretty well from all sides. Let’s just see what they do now they know we’re here.”

“You think they’ll make a move?” Will asked, allowing Halt’s grip to settle his arm down. He dropped his bow, but kept the arrow on the string.

“No,” Halt said, shrugging, “They’re too well trained for that. But it’s worth a shot. In an hour, the sun will be lower and the shadows deeper and longer. That’ll work to our advantage.”

“Their’s too,” Will pointed out, but Halt immediately shook his head.

“They’re good,” he said, grinning ruefully, “but they’re not trained for this the way we are. They’re more used to working in cities, blending into crowds. Plus our cloaks give us the advantage in here. The colors match the surroundings better than that dull purple they wear. So we wait an hour and see what happens.”

Hesitantly, Will nodded. “Then what?”

“Then I’ll keep moving,” Halt said, “following that very obvious trail they’re leaving.” Halt saw the quick intake of breath from his former apprentice. “I’ll be careful,” he said, wanting to reassure him. “Don’t worry. I’ve done this sort of thing before, believe it or not.”

Will didn’t smile at that, which told Halt that this was definitely weighing on Will more than he’d expected. “Will …” Halt started, not sure how to get to the heart of this issue.

“I don’t think you should be the one to continue on,” Will finally said, quite bluntly. He refused to look at Halt, though, instead looking around the forest as he brought a hand to his face. First he covered his mouth, but then he started to fidget, which went against all his training. “I just …” Will trailed off again, struggling with words.

Halt recognized this behavior. He’d seen Will fall into it more than a few times, mostly immediately after his return from Skandia. The boy dealt with a lot of nerves by training and working through his apprenticeship, but every once and a while, when something truly hit to his core, nothing could stop the old habits from rising.

“Will,” he started, “I’m not just deciding to do this myself because I don’t trust you or think you can’t do it. The person who follows along needs to be ready to move quickly, which you have a better chance of than me. You’re smaller and nimbler than I am, Will, so—”

“No,” Will suddenly said, cutting his mentor off. Halt froze, unused to the tone that suddenly showed itself in Will’s voice. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Will said, voice tense. In Will’s mind, all of the possible situations kept flashing before him—Halt taking a crossbow bolt to the throat, the thigh, the chest—a place where he could bleed out before Will could even help. What didn’t help was the whispers from the forest, reminding him of the promise he’d made to Pauline to keep Halt safe. Of all the people he’d be letting down if something happened to Halt on his watch. Pauline. Crowley. Gilan. All of their family that were waiting for their safe return.

“Will,” Halt started, seeing where his apprentice was coming from but not understanding why he was suddenly unwilling to go along with the plan. “It doesn’t matter if it’s a good idea or not, it has to be done. I—”

“Then let me do it,” Will cut in, eyes hard as he stared back as his mentor.

“What?” Halt asked, incredulous. He’d just explained to Will why he needed to be the one to follow the trail, and for the first time in years, Will was refusing to listen. “Will, I just said why—”

“And I understand that reasoning, I do,” Will said, eyebrows furrowing. “But listen to me, Halt. I’m not a kid anymore, and I’ve had to solve things like this without you before. And right now, my reasoning is telling me to follow that trail myself and let someone with more experience be my back-up.”

Halt stared at Will, at a loss for words. He was used to Will following him at his word, used to a little back and forth discussion but never being completely shot down. On one hand, it made sense to Halt and he was proud of his former apprentice. On the other hand, he was slightly miffed at the sudden disobedience.

“Let me do this, Halt,” Will said, reaching up and running a hand through his hair underneath his hood. He felt hot, almost like he was running a fever, but no doubt it was just because of nerves.

The older Ranger was silent for a few minutes, staring along the trail and away from his younger companion. In his mind, it made sense. Let the person with less experience be the bait, while the person who would know how to act without a second thought be the back-up. He didn’t like it, putting Will out in the open, but now he saw it from Will’s side. He didn’t like letting someone he cared about walk into an obvious trap, and he had tried to push Will into it without a second thought.

Eventually, he sighed. “Fine,” he said, shaking his head. Then, he started explaining how they would go about this, Will following the track and Halt moving through a gully to outflank the assassins without them realizing. Will nodded along to his description, the tenseness suddenly gone from his body.

“They won’t be far from the track,” Halt said, “the trees are too dense. It’d be hard to shoot accurately through this tangle at any range greater than about fifty meters.” Halt paused at that, then shrugged. “More like thirty, really. I’ll work my way about a hundred meters to the left, then move parallel to you. That’ll put me well outside their range and placed to come up behind them.”

Will was nodding along, now silent that he had convinced Halt to do it his way. But now Halt was frowning, a little concerned that Will seemed so ready to put his life on the line.

“Don’t just follow the track out in the open, either,” Halt started, “Dodge from cover to cover. Make it obvious, but not too obvious. And—”

“—and be ready to shoot,” Will finished for him. Then, he smiled, recognizing that Halt was now worried about him. “If there’s one thing I’m sure about, Halt, it’s that I’ll be ready to do just that.” Will could already picture the situation developing, him ducking along the path while Halt glided around to catch them off guard. It was a simple plan, really, which was a good thing: there were less things that could go wrong.

As he pictured the scene, he could see one of the assassins rising from cover, probably from behind a fallen tree trunk. Their crossbows would be better suited to shoot from low-lying cover like that, unlike someone armed with a longbow.

Halt could see Will’s mind working, thinking through the situation as he had been trained. He was fine with that, happy even, and let the young man’s mind work. They were in no hurry to move, and the shadows weren’t long enough for his liking yet. He would wait until Will was ready, since he was the one putting in more risk.

After a minute or two, though, Halt spoke. “We’ve got several things going for us, Will,” he said, “One, these assassins won’t be familiar with out training or skill levels. If they don’t see you—me—leave the cover behind this tree, they’ll assume I’m still here.

“Two, they’re using crossbows. It’s going to be short range, so we won’t have any particular edge in accuracy, but on the other hand, they won’t out-range us.”

The most powerful crossbows could out-range a longbow, easily, but firing a short bolt or quarrel rather than a longer, more stable arrow, they became less accurate the longer they traveled. In the restricted space among the trees, they’d be on even footing.

“It’s not like they’re using full-power crossbows either,” Will pointed out. A powerful crossbow had massive limbs and cord. It was recocked and loaded by the use of a two-handed crank set into the butt—and it could take several minutes to ratchet the string back for each shot. The Genovesans used a quicker, less powerful version. “They’ll have to show themselves after the first shot to reload.”

Halt pursed his lips, wanting to make sure Will understood exactly what he was getting into, with all the risks. “They may have more than one bow each,” he reminded Will. “So don’t take any chances. Stay low, and shoot fast.”

It would take around twenty seconds for the crossbowmen to reload. Then, they’d have to aim and shoot again. Both Will and Halt could nock, draw, aim, and shoot in less than five seconds. By the time a Genovesan was ready with his second shot, the two Rangers could have more than a dozen arrows in the air, all heading for him. The Genovesans had the advantage of shooting from ambush, but if they missed their first shots, the odds suddenly swung heavily in the Rangers’ favor.

Halt studied the forest around them for the tenth time. Moving his head slightly as he faced west, he could see the glare of the sun between the trunks. The shadows were longer now and the visibility among the trees was becoming more and more uncertain. If he left it much longer, they’d be caught inside the trees in the gathering darkness. It was time to move.

Looking back to his apprentice, Halt couldn’t help but to see the young boy he’d watch grow up from afar, the teenager he trained and cared for. The young man he’d grown into, brilliant and confident and, now, ready to walk into danger.

“Get going,” Halt said, forcing his voice not to sound too strained. “I’ll wait five minutes, then slip through the gully.

Will grinned sardonically. It was really more of a dent in the ground than a gully, he though, but it would provide more than enough cover for his mentor. Halt didn’t see his reaction, though, instead studying the forest to the front and sides of their position. Then, he reached out, and put a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Be careful,” was all he said, before nodding.

Without another word, Will rose from his kneeling position into a half crouch. He nodded back at Halt, suddenly seeming all too calm.

“Promise,” Will murmured, smiling an oddly sad smile before silently slipping out onto the path, a green and gray blur that quickly melted into the shadows of the forest.

Halt watched after him, chest tight and eyes stinging. “Please don’t make me regret this,” Halt breathed to himself, closing his eyes. And when he reopened them, Will was completely gone, already down the path and into the jaws of the beast.


End file.
